


Escape the present with dreams of the future

by salvatorestjohn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asthma attack, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Pre-Bite Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Pre-Canon, Protective Melissa McCall, Rafael McCall Being an Asshole, Scott Needs A Hug, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: Then his eyes widen and it's like he's just been struck with the greatest idea ever.Honestly, that scares Scott a little, because so far in the past three years he's known him, almost all of his ideas were supposed to be the best and ended with them both in trouble. He has no doubt that this will probably be one of them, somehow."We could get married."





	Escape the present with dreams of the future

The days that all he can hear is laughter and the sound of more than arguing are the days that Scott likes. Usually, just like today, it's because they're over at Stiles' house. Things are almost always calmer, he's noticed.

Not all the time; there were one or two really bad days. His dad and Stiles' dad got into an argument over something. Whoever's visiting who leaves early when that happens. Scott's just glad this isn't one of those days. They've been here for hours and all he's heard is them talking, mostly laughing.

He definitely likes it more when they get along. His dad doesn't shout then. Scott figures it's something to do with Stiles' dad being a deputy. Either way, he's glad. 

"Wedding's look dumb," Stiles decides from next to him on the couch, his eyes staying focused on the screen of the TV.

Scott would disagree, but he's not sure he can. The movie their parents left playing before moving their conversation into the kitchen while making dinner isn't giving him much of an argument. A part of him thinks that they have to be different in real life.

"Maybe it's better if it's your own wedding," he suggests, shrugging with one shoulder. "They might not all be like that."

Stiles scrunches his face and shakes his head. The look tells Scott he's already made up his mind and won't change it for anything. He never usually does. 

"No way," he says. "It was too weird. All the crying — and they got interrupted too many times. Why have a wedding if it's going to get crashed three times before they can actually get married?"

He waves a hand at the screen, and in a voice that sounds like this is the biggest betrayal, adds, "they didn't even have a good cake. They got it like five minutes before it started and it's not chocolate. Wedding's are dumb, and they're not worth it."

Scott tilts his head, chewing on his bottom lip. 

He wants to be able to convince him he's wrong, that maybe some wedding's turn out alright. It's not like either of them have ever been to one. He's never said it, but there's a tiny spark of hope living somewhere in his chest, next to his heart, that maybe someday they'll have their own. 

Separate, obviously, he quickly reminds himself as he gets an idea.

"Come on," he nudges Stiles' shoulder, a smile on his face, "if you had a wedding, you could pick out whatever cake you wanted. Triple chocolate. And..." his stomach twists a little but he ignores it, "what if you were marrying Lydia? That would be worth it, right?"

Stiles' face lights up just at her name. He obviously doesn't even try to hide it; he never does when it comes to Lydia. 

Still, he pretends to act all calm and cool about it, despite Scott knowing him well enough to know that he's already reconsidering his whole view on weddings to fit the idea of one with Lydia in instead.

It only takes a few seconds, but then he's shaking his head, much to Scott's surprise. Brief, of course, because Stiles then opens his mouth. 

"She would never get married," he says, apparently confident in his words despite never having talked to her a day in his life. "I heard her say she didn't want to play house because she didn't want to have a husband. She probably thinks they're just as dumb."

Scott can't help but notice the hesitation on Stiles' face now. The disappointment. 

"But," he continues, "it does look kind of fun. Just the party bit," he quickly adds. "Not the lovey-dovey, crying part. That part's definitely still dumb. But... triple chocolate cake does sound good."

Scott smiles again but tries to hide it this time, ducking his head for a second or two. Then he's looking back up at him as he questions, "I thought Lydia wouldn't want to get married?"

Stiles frowns. His face pinches in the way it does when he's in thought, trying to backtrack out of something he just said without admitting he was wrong. Scott always finds it funny until he manages to do it. 

Not giving him the chance to work out how he can have a wedding with Lydia in the future if she wouldn't want one, Scott gives him another gentle nudge to the shoulder. His smile widens. 

"Don't worry," he says as Stiles looks at him, "if you don't get married, then I don't either. We can just have a triple chocolate cake anyway. We don't need the wedding part."

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he smiles right back at him, obviously happy with that. "Okay, deal."

Then his eyes widen and it's like he's just been struck with the greatest idea ever.

Honestly, that scares Scott a little, because so far in the past three years he's known him, almost all of his ideas were supposed to be the best and ended with them both in trouble. He has no doubt that this will probably be one of them, somehow. 

"We could get married."

Scott blinks at him. His mouth falls open and for a second — just one little second — his heart feels like it jumps in his chest, hitting his rib cage. He almost worries it's about to come out. 

Stiles must notice his silence and take it to mean something because he's then hurrying to add, "think about it. There would be loads of food, and a massive cake. That's, like... five triple chocolate cakes. And the party bit after would be fun. Though, I don't know who we would invite. Maybe Danny? Heather would say yes, I know she would. Definitely not Theo."

Thankfully, his slight rambling gives Scott the chance to catch back up. The second Stiles stops though, staring at him expectantly, now biting his bottom lip as he continues to smile, Scott huffs out a laugh. 

"We can't get married," he says like it should be obvious. 

Stiles just stares at him, his face falling.

"We're too young," Scott points out. "We have to be older, like our parents."

Stiles' expression quickly shifts to one of relief as he rolls his eyes at him. He's got that fond look of exasperation on his face as he says, "I didn't mean right now, dummy."

But then he's got this cute little wicked grin, almost smug like. Scott catches himself, but Stiles leans forward a little, that disregard for personal space making an appearance. Not that Scott can really say he minds.

"So, that means you'd marry me if we were older?"

Scott's face heats up, his eyes widening. His heart's definitely trying to squeeze past his ribs and pop out of his chest, he decides. 

He ignores it with a roll of his eyes and a gentle shove to Stiles' shoulder. 

"Shut up, you know what I meant."

Stiles' face is lighting up for the second time. 

"You totally would," he says, his tone suddenly teasing like he wasn't the one who suggested it in the first place. "Okay, how much older are we talking? Like our parent's age? Or... you know that boy in our class? Ivan? Isa... something, I don't know. But he has an older brother. Are we talking his age, because that's only like a few years, and—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts him off, a slight whine to his voice. He just looks at him, hoping he'll leave it there, but even so, the corners of his mouth tug up just a little. 

"Come on, I'd marry you," Stiles continues, and his voice shakes a little. The start of the tell-tale laughter that sounds an awful lot like giggling. 

Scott just shakes his head, but he's joining Stiles, the giggling starting somewhere in his chest. He tries to keep his act up even with Stiles staring at him so expectantly, wide-eyes and bright smile. 

"Stiles, we're not getting married," he says, trying to make it sound like that's it, the end of the conversation. They both know there's no chance of that happening, not now that Stiles has a clear goal. 

Stiles pauses for just a second. Scott already knows what's coming the second he practically flings himself at him, sending him onto his back. It's quickly followed by Stiles' fingers digging into his sides. One disadvantage Scott has is that Stiles has every one of his weak spots memorized and is absolutely using them to his own advantage. 

He can't help but laugh now as Stiles does too, hovering over him. 

"Stop!" Scott just manages to wheeze out, his hands gently tugging at Stiles' pointlessly. 

"Nope," Stiles says, drawing the word out far more than necessary. His fingers continue to move, his tickling never ceasing for even a second. "Not until you admit you would marry me."

He pauses again, giving Scott enough time to be able to speak. Scott uses that opportunity to breathe again, his chest tight as well as his throat. He ignores it though, too focused on sticking to his act. It's hard when Stiles is staring down at him with that cute, knowing grin, his eyebrows raised.

Still, he manages. His smile widens as he pushes himself up the tiniest bit, slowly shaking his head.

"Never," he says, and Stiles groans. "I'm not saying it."

"You are so stubborn."

"So are you," Scott shoots back pointedly. 

Stiles shrugs. "You're right. But only because we both know _I'm_ right."

Scott hums, pretending to think about it. Then he gives another shake of his head, holding Stiles' gaze. "Nope."

"Yes!" Stiles insists, his laughter returning once more, making his shoulders shake. "Come on. Marrying me wouldn't be that bad. I can see it on your face. We would have so much fun being married! Think of the cake."

Scott doesn't say anything, just shakes his head once more. Partially because he doesn't want him to know he's right, and also because the tightness in his chest is starting to feel a little too familiar, taking more effort to breathe. 

He does his best to hold back any coughing that's scratching at the back of his throat, not wanting this to end. 

Stiles looks stumped for a second or two. They just sit there as he seems to try and think, his eyes darting all over Scott's face for something that'll work in his favour. 

Then his grin is ten times wider and he leans down. He plants a kiss right on Scott's left cheek. 

It doesn't throw Scott that much; he has a habit of doing it at random moments, having explained it's how his parents say  _I love you_. It only catches him off guard since he wasn't expecting it. It only takes a second for him to catch back up though, and the giggling start all over again. 

He pretends to try and push him off, though he's really not making much of an effort. All he's really doing is holding his hand in one of his own with the other somewhere around his chest and shoulder. 

"Gross," he says, scrunching his face up. His smile betrays him. 

Stiles does it again, this time on his right cheek. The tickling continues. His fingers press into his sides once more as he presses kisses to every part of Scott's face he can reach. Mostly his cheeks, but then there's one on his nose that only makes the both of their giggling that much worse, practically uncontrollable at this point. 

"We could totally get married," Stiles says, right before planting a kiss on Scott's nose. 

He goes cross-eyed for a second to try and see him, making Stiles grin. He goes to lean back down and Scott quickly makes up his mind, caving at the sight of Stiles' determination, knowing he won't win this.

"Okay, okay, you were right!" he manages to say in between his own laughter. "I'd marry you!"

He's too distracted to pay much attention to the tightness in his chest until he's struggling to breathe. It's then that his laughter quickly dies down, that familiar wheezing finally clawing its way out of his throat. He doesn't notice that someone else is already joining them in the room.

Stiles' eyes go wide as Scott's chest heaves now, trying to get in as much air as he can in the hopes that it'll stop. He gets off of him and Scott starts to push himself upright. There are people speaking now, Stiles' voice as well, the click of something. 

He's already halfway into the asthma attack, his hand pressing at his chest as the wheezing refuses to relent. Then an inhaler's being gently shoved into his mouth, and a second later, there's a burst of air going into his lungs. The relief is almost instant, if only momentary. 

He quickly takes the inhaler from Stiles' slightly shaky hands, taking another puff of it. The burning in his throat eases up slightly as it sets in. 

After a few more seconds of slow breathing, it doesn't feel like an effort anymore. His chest has loosened enough and he lowers the inhaler. 

That's when he becomes aware of their parents now in the room with them. He glances around them as he tunes into what his dad's saying. A part of him doesn't want to, his voice loud. Scott almost thinks he's about to stop breathing again when he catches that edge that usually means his dad's been drinking. 

"—I think the two of them could benefit from some time apart, that's all I'm saying." 

Scott stares up at him with wide eyes, watching his mom close her own in the way she does when he's like this. Tired. 

Stiles' parents, however, look more mad than anything. 

"They were just playing around," Stiles' mom says, waving a hand at them but keeping her narrowed eyes on him. 

His dad doesn't seem to be listening though. He's already pulling Scott off of the couch before she's even done talking. 

Scott winces, his fingers tight around his wrist. 

"Don't grab him like that," his mom says, quickly but gently pulling him out of his dad's grasp. There's a warning edge to her voice as she moves him half behind her, on the other side from him.

The look on Stiles' dad's face is one that he rarely sees; mainly because it usually leads to him and Stiles getting sent to another room where they're supposed to pretend they can't hear any of the shouting going on between their dads.

Scott's stomach drops as he swallows. He thought this was going to be one of the good days. 

"Asthma attacks aren't just playing around," his dad says, and Scott can't help but wonder when he started caring or believing that he was having them at all. "He could have hurt him."

"Dad, it wasn't Stiles' fault," he tries, but his voice is slightly off, quiet. "We were just playing."

His dad ignores him, or maybe just doesn't hear him through his drunken anger. He never usually does unless Scott does something he doesn't like. 

His mom glances down at him though, as well as Stiles' dad, both of them hearing him. 

"Raf," his mom says now, keeping her voice gentle and calm. They can all hear the strain in it. "It was no one's fault. He has asthma, the attacks are bound to happen. The boys were just—"

"Yeah, I saw what they were doing," his dad cuts her off, too fast, too angry. 

The way that he says it has Scott's stomach twisting itself in knots and his heart somewhere in his throat. 

His response doesn't seem to go down well with the rest of them, even if Scott doesn't quite understand it.

"Oh come on, they're kids," Stiles' dad says, clearly trying to reason, but his own anger at the comment seeps through. He waves a hand vaguely, adding, "they're seven years old, Rafael. You know it didn't mean anything. That's — that's what they always do, it's how they are, you know that."

"That's why I think some time apart would be good for them," his dad responds,  his eyes on the ground. "It happens too much. Maybe they should spend some time with some of their other friends. Distance can be good."

"For who?" Stiles' mom questions, shaking her head in disbelief. "Don't punish them just because you don't like it. They haven't done anything wrong."

"I'll decide how to parent my son, thank you." 

" _Our_ son," Scott's mom steps in, her voice quieter as she sends him a look that Scott doesn't get. He's just certain that he's never seen her this angry before. Not like this. "I think you're the one who could benefit from some _distance_ right now. Maybe it'll help you see how completely unbelievable you're being."

His dad scoffs, just staring at her as if she's not being serious. It seems to sink in that she is, the room silent for the first time all night. 

If anything, that scares Scott more. 

The tension in the air is thick and in his lungs, almost like it's trying to send him right back into the asthma attack that's created the guilt that's tying itself up in his stomach and throat.

For a moment, it seems like he's going to argue. He's been drinking, it's usually his go-to. But he doesn't say anything. 

His mom holds his stare, unwavering. 

He notices Stiles' parents glancing at each other, his mom looking like she wants to move toward his own. Stiles' dad keeps his eyes focused on Scott's, almost like he's waiting for something, ready to step forward. He doesn't need to. 

His dad nods slowly now, clenching his jaw. He drops the stare, and without a word, he walks away from them and out of the room. 

Scott's eyes follow him all the way to the door. The slam startles him, making him jump. Stiles' dad flinches at the noise, but it's quickly replaced by silence once more. 

No one seems to know what to do. No one wants to be the one to make the first move, to say the first word. Scott just stays there behind his mom, completely still as his heart pounds away in his ears, the backs of his eyes stinging. He watches his mom as she just stares blankly at the spot his dad had been standing in.

Then Stiles' mom is moving over to her, gentle hands on her shoulders. It seems to snap them all back to reality, broken out of the standstill they had all come to. 

"Let's sit down, okay?" she says softly. "I'll make some coffee. You two can stay here for the night."

His mom nods and even attempts a grateful smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, but Stiles' mom smiles back as they start toward the kitchen. She shoots a glance at Stiles' dad over her shoulder and something seems to pass between them. A simple nod, an understanding. 

He crouches down beside Stiles, still on the couch, that almost unreadable but obviously worried and confused look on his face.

"Stiles, could you let Scott borrow some of your pyjamas?" he asks with a faint hint of a smile, hidden beneath everything else. It's mostly there to assure them everything's okay, Scott knows, having heard it many times before.

Stiles doesn't even hesitate to nod, his head bouncing quickly up and down.

"Okay," Stiles' dad does smile now, his eyes shifting between the two of them as they both stare at him with hopeful looks. "You boys head up and get ready for bed, okay? You can bring your stuff down here instead for the night if you want."

Then he stands back up, giving Stiles' shoulder a gentle squeeze. He moves to join their moms, doing the same with Scott as he passes him before disappearing into the kitchen.

They do as he said. Stiles gets off the couch, walking over to Scott.

He sends him a small, barely-there smile; it's the same one they always share in these situations. Worried, but an unspoken promise that they'll get through it together. 

Scott returns it and lets Stiles take his hand, not trusting his legs to move otherwise. They head for his room to get changed. 

It doesn't take them long before they're back in the living room, their parents still tucked away in the kitchen, voices quiet enough to only be muffled sounds to them. 

They curl back up at either end of the couch, underneath the comforter Stiles dragged off of his bed, the four pillows tucked in behind them. The TV's still playing, the channel now changed to something else that Scott isn't really paying attention to. He's not so sure Stiles is either from the way he keeps fidgeting and how he catches his eyes sliding over to him every few seconds. 

The bubbling of guilt in his stomach only seems to grow with each second that passes, bringing along a wave of nausea. It happens every time, but he's still not used to it. He doesn't want to be.

It gets too much though and he finally breaks, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry."

Stiles looks over at him now, his eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't even seem to need to act confused, genuinely not understanding his apology. For some reason that only makes Scott's stomach hurt even more.

"Why?" he asks. "You didn't do anything."

Scott gives a halfhearted shrug, his eyes burning and blurring slightly now. 

"I could feel it happening and I didn't say anything," he tries, thinking he should have. Maybe if he had, his dad wouldn't have gotten mad. He could have gotten the inhaler before he even knew about it.

Stiles shakes his head, saying, "you can't help having an asthma attack. It wasn't your fault, Scotty." He then looks down at his hands, something sad crossing his face. "I should have stopped. I know that it makes it worse, I just didn't..."

He trails off, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. Scott's the one shaking his head now, the guilt clear as day on Stiles' face. 

"If it wasn't my fault, then it wasn't yours either," he says softly, but firm. 

He just holds Stiles' gaze when he looks back up at him. Maybe there really was nothing he could have done. His dad would probably have found something else to get mad about if it wasn't this. 

Stiles seems to accept his assurance and nods back, still chewing on his lip. Scott's aware of the slight wetness around his eyes; half of the time he doesn't even notice he's started crying until after. Thankfully, it's just one little escaped tear this time.

He wipes his hand over his cheek to get rid of it. As he does, Stiles ducks under the comforter, disappearing from sight. Scott sits confused for all of two seconds before he feels Stiles wriggling up his left side, reappearing beside him a moment left as his head pops back out. 

It's not that much of a squeeze and Stiles settles back down beside him easily, smiling that soft smile at him. Scott manages to return it, grateful.

As he curls up, adjusting his position to get a little more comfortable before he falls asleep, Stiles' hand slip into one of his own. He just holds it there, giving a gentle squeeze as he cuddles into Scott. A silent,  _I'm here if you need me._

Scott appreciates it more than he can say. He smiles a little more, squeezing back. They leave it at that, both of them already starting to get tired. Still, they focus their attention on the TV. It's a nice distraction from thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow.

It's only once Scott feels his eyelids dropping, zoning out every few seconds as everything gets fuzzier, that Stiles leans forward. He presses a kiss to Scott's cheek, just like before. Scott twists his head around enough to look at him, a softer, sleepier smile at the corners of his mouth. 

"I'd still marry you, Scotty," Stiles says quietly, a whispered secret between the two of them. 

Scott's stomach swoops but he's too tired to fully register it. All he can do is smile, tugging gently on Stiles' hand, still holding onto it. 

"I'd marry you too, Stiles," he says, and Stiles' happy little smile is enough. "Not just for the cake."

"Pinky promise?" Stiles asks, and Scott thinks he's only half-joking. 

Scott untangles their hands to hook Stiles' pinky around his own. He lifts his eyes back to his face, Stiles' now moving from their hands back up to meet his. 

"Pinky promise," Scott agrees, nodding. 

They fall asleep not long after. Curled up together on the couch, the faintest hints of smiles on their faces. The position may not be the most comfortable, but with everything going on in his head, having Stiles' arms around him makes him feel that little bit safer. 

Scott is much happier to have his dreams filled with Stiles, and weird weddings with chocolate cake the size of a skyscraper, rather than of his dad. Even if it's only temporary before he's sucked back into it all tomorrow. 

He's positive that things will get better, even if he's just relying on dreams of what the future might be like right now. His mom, Stiles, his parents. It's enough for him.


End file.
